Over the weekend I had the opportunity to attend an ecology course near Grand Junction, CO. I had hoped that I would learn a tremendous amount, and being a botany novice my expectations were certainly met! But one learning I wasn’t expecting was around the language that is so commonly used to describe plants and our relationships to their systems. Our instructor gently and thoughtfully pointed out that referring to plants as “weeds” or “invasive” is charged with all kinds of human-centric bias that enforces a values-based judgment. There were other uses of language that I appreciated seeing modeled throughout the weekend as well, such referring to someone by their name once you know it instead of by their role (“Gloria” instead of “your friend”, etc.).
I think about language and its use a lot, both formally (I studied Linguistics) and informally (I’m generally a communications enthusiast). I am fascinated by how we create meaning out of shared building blocks, and how messages are (mis)interpreted. Volumes have been written, studied, and said about the idea that language shapes thought (or vice versa) and the details of that debate is not what this post is about. But this post is absolutely about how language is a choice, and we choose the components of language (words, phrases, etc.) to craft representations of meaning, and these choices have a real impact. And for as much as I’ve carefully leafed my way through this dense, enchanting forest, I will also be the first to acknowledge my own thorny soil. I, too, crutch my way through conversations, supporting myself on formulaic refrains, grooved shortcuts to “shared” understanding that create quicker connections. But the more that I and others continue to wear down the grass on the (dis)coursed path of saying and meaning, the easier it is to take things (and people) for granted.
In particular, the use of language in the workplace has been an ongoing topic of deep interest for me even after leaving the tech industry. Specifically, the thing that’s been on my radar for seasons at a time is intentionality and precision when talking about what someone brings to their role. As a manager and as a cross-functional leader, I found that I had more fruitful conversations with others when I understood what their responsibilities were, and could directly relate the content of our conversation to their contributions.
A remark that has always stuck with me came from an interim manager as I was leaving a startup. He hadn’t been my manager during my entire tenure, but he’d certainly been there long enough to witness a lot of my contributions: creating and directing an entirely new department - including hiring to branch out its functions, creating and driving seminal, customer-facing programs, drafting and distributing foundational documentation for a host of engineering processes, etc. So when he thanked me for my “help” as I made my exit, my face took on a decidedly quizzical expression and I’ve held on to this puzzlement ever since. I hadn’t set up chairs in a conference room before a keynote talk. I had done what I was hired to do (and then some), and in the process had co-created success for the company.
This is my anecdote to share since it was my experience, but it’s not unique. I've had countless people relay frustration over a similar experience of being thanked for “helping” when that label felt inaccurate at best. Friends, colleagues, and family members have rolled eyes, shaken heads, and drank too much as they complained about being dismissed as “helpful” when they felt that the depth and reach of their work, contribution, and impact was discounted through the use of the word.
It’s important to note that there is definitely a thread (or a full, medieval tapestry) to unwind about the use of the term “help” with some genders or identities more than others. While my anecdote was about words used when I left a job, this analysis of "Feminine-Biased Words Used in Job Descriptions" points out how “help” can show up even in job descriptions. I have chosen not to explore this path in this post at this moment, other than to hopefully shine a brighter light on raising our awareness around what language we choose to describe the actions and contributions of others. This light comes with a hope that we are prompted to make language choices with greater intention.
As we embark on the intentionality arch, it’s worth a bit of a clinical check in, an appeal to dictionary entries. Here is how the verb “to help” is defined across a few sources:
to support or assist someone with something, contribute strength or means to
to render assistance to
to make it possible or easier for someone to do something, by doing part of the work yourself or by providing advice, money, support, etc.:
The commonality across these entries is that the helper is stepping in to supplement, to add to something that already exists, to come alongside an action set in motion by another. And the helper’s action is an awesome act of generosity, a community-oriented service that deserves recognition. But it is by its very nature different from many of the other verbs that describe the original and primary contributions of your colleagues and direct reports.
If you’re going to thank someone for what they’ve done, have the courtesy and precisional awareness to be specific, underscoring the ownership that they have taken on and how they have become more accountable through their acts. If you’ve determined that someone has “helped out,” then certainly thank them for that by recognizing exactly how. And of course, whether as community members or company employees, we are all “helping” each other reach the same set of goals. But there’s a difference between slicing a bell pepper in your friend’s kitchen and authoring a recipe.
I hope this was helpful. 🌱